


Never compromises on quality

by wtfkovah



Series: Sweater Vest Stories [12]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Body Worship, Boss/Employee Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Rimming, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfkovah/pseuds/wtfkovah
Summary: Maybe, maybe—Jihoon really has just invited him up for a cup of coffee.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: Sweater Vest Stories [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736101
Comments: 71
Kudos: 487





	Never compromises on quality

It's weird, but somehow, they make it from Seungcheol's car to Jihoon's apartment door without talking. And _man_ is the silence torturous. Despite the brief span of sidewalk, apartment foyer, elevator, hallway. Despite the fact it's late, and most of the apartment building is settling in for sleep so they shouldn't do much talking _anyway,_ every second without speaking leaves Seungcheol more on edge.

He feels...not drunk exactly, but he's definitely amped up on _something._

Something that puts him on edge and shaky and struggling to contain himself.

He spends the better part of the trip counselling himself not to jump to conclusions _,_ practicing a continuous mantra of ‘ _Don’t assume, don’t get ahead of yourself’_ , because there’s a big possibility he’s working himself up over nothing.

Yeah, there had been tension building between them in the car, but he could have been misreading it. Jihoon’s invitation might be purely innocent, and the _worst_ thing Seungcheol can do would be to jump Jihoon the moment they step through the door.

Maybe, _maybe_ —Jihoon really _has_ just invited him up for a cup of coffee.

Though, that’s beginning to seem less likely as they finally reach the front door, and he watches Jihoon fiddle with his keys. 

Jihoon seems nervous himself as he leads the way across the threshold, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he stands aside to let Seungcheol into the narrow entry hall. Pushes the door quietly shut. His shoulders are rigid as he toes off his shoes and sets his keys down, and there is a spark of something unreadable in the depth of his eyes. Something just a tad too anxious to be a regular invitation for coffee.

Once they reach his bedroom, there is a weird suspenseful moment where he just stands there, in the middle of the room, not quite meeting Seungcheol’s gaze. There’s a hot pink blush on his cheeks now, and his eyes keep flickering from side to side, the way they do when he’s trying to work up the nerve to initiate a difficult and potentially awkward conversation.

“Do you—do you actually _want_ coffee?”

Seungcheol releases a small snort of laughter in spite of himself. “No, Jihoon, I don’t.”

“Oh good,” Jihoon breathes, sounding relieved beyond the telling of it. A tentative, gauging look accompanies the pause that follows, “I mean, I can totally make you a cup, if you wanted one. Or some tea. Or a hot chocolate. You didn’t exactly get a chance to eat much this evening, I could rustle you up some—”

“I’m good, honestly.” Seungcheol interrupts, before Jihoon can get into the spirit of being a good host and dash off to whip up a three-course meal. “I didn’t come up here for coffee Jihoon, I just like spending time with you when we’re not surrounded by people I hate.”

All Jihoon's air leaves his lungs in an explosion of breath that is caught between surprise and laughter. But his shoulders loosen and he finally lifts his head, and his eyes are – god help Seungcheol – they’re sparkling and happy and relieved.

“Okay, well—please have a seat. Make yourself comfortable, I won’t be long, I just need to get your present.” Jihoon says, finally pushing the bedroom door shut.

When he reaches for a small gift bag sitting on his dresser, all Seungcheol can do is stare. And when instead of just handing it over, Jihoon smiles and slips off into the bathroom, all Seungcheol can do for embarrassingly long seconds is watch him go.

It takes Seungcheol almost a minute to process the conversation and come to the conclusion that he’s _totally_ misinterpreted Jihoon’s intentions. Obviously Jihoon has just brought him up here to give him his gift, and it requires some sort of _assembly_ before it can be presented.

Okay. That’s cool. Panic over.

No spilling his carefully locked up guts tonight. 

Considering the seating available, Seungcheol quickly decides on the Hello Kitty bed. He’d likely look ridiculous squeezed into the bean bag slumped by the bookshelf. Likely he’d look ridiculous on the overstuffed Hello Kitty plushie too, but once he shrugs out of his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, he passes for casual enough to lounge indolently on the Sanrio Merch Monstrosity.

And Jihoon wasn’t lying, the bed is pretty comfy; not too hard, not too soft, with just enough springiness to substitute for a decent mattress.

Goldilocks would be proud.

Soon enough, Seungcheol grows tetchy just _sitting_ there, waiting, and checks his watch.

Jihoon is taking a very long time to prepare whatever he had in that alarmingly pink bag.

So getting to his feet, he pads around the room aimlessly: inspecting Jihoon’s collectibles and the rows of plushies by the window, scanning the CDs stacked on the shelf. Not that he expects to recognise any of the music his Peanut listens too, but he still likes to look. It’s a little nosey, sure, but he doesn't think Jihoon would mind, and anyway, it’s not like he’s pulling open drawers and rifling through his PA’s underwear.

Though, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t _tempted_.

Especially when he notices one of the drawers right under his nose is still part-way open, giving him a glimpse of multi-coloured cotton briefs and frilly, lace—

Seungcheol shuts the drawer too hard, rattling the lamp on the night table, and makes a detour over to the other side of the room before he can be tempted to pry further.

There’s a large floating shelf at the top of Jihoon’s bed, high above where the headboard should be, _if_ he had a more conventional sleeping arrangement. Seungcheol hadn’t noticed it the last time he was in here, probably because he had been so absorbed by the mountain of plushies beneath it was hard to take note of anything else. But he’s drawn to it now, and the variety of candy-coloured knick-knacks on display.

He’s not entirely sure _what_ he’s looking at first, but most of it appears to be custom made keepsakes, from some kind of weird-ass party. There’s a couple of synthetic wigs, a pair of feathery angel wings, as well as various pieces of costume jewelry, including a pair of ornate cuffs, a sparkly crown and a necklace with a giant key-shaped pendant. There’s a very convincing replica of a katana too, nestled behind the two [giant](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e7f6d62575cab310852eca22050a6049/5a0f61a5d6a9b408-80/s400x600/d4e574d3a2f72ff32f1d41449defadf581f393e9.jpg) [dildos](https://64.media.tumblr.com/024a844d306498a73649e535ddeb0248/5a0f61a5d6a9b408-8c/s250x400/184c509738a33bc261cdf0811077e56d279d212d.jpg) and a—

_Woah, hey, ho_ —what the hell?

Seungcheol eyes bug out a little at the sight.

Shaking his head to clear it, he leans in real close and _squints_ , really squints, because he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. It’s too early in the game to undo his bowtie, but he suddenly feels a little too hot under his collar and has to reach up to tug it loose.

After a moment of slack-jawed staring there really is no mistaking the two large, very decorative phallic objects taking pride and place on the shelf as anything else. They’re two fat, pastel coloured dildos, and Jihoon just has them _sitting_ there, for everyone to _see_. 

Seungcheol can't quite wrap his head around that. It’s strange to think that under Jihoon’s sweet uncertain exterior is a guy who proudly displays his giant dildos. Hell, he’s even invested in some Perspex _display_ cases _to_ display them in. But hey, maybe that’s a _thing_ now? Maybe leaving sex toys out in the open is the new _hip_ thing millennials do, and Seungcheol just missed the memo.

It’s possible.

He _has_ been out of touch with what’s trending for the better part of a decade, so he should probably reserve his shock until he asks—

“Ta-da!” Jihoon’s voice calls out, cutting through his thoughts.

Seungcheol turns to look, and his eyebrows lift all the way up to his hairline.

"Holy shi—"

He doesn't make it any farther into the sentence than that, because Jihoon is leaning against the doorframe, hip cocked, a pose that’s right out of Seungcheol's filthiest dreams. Jihoon’s outfit is much in the same spirit. He's wearing a frilly [pink](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0c3858042255b32f2347405f41353932/bf1a5fde5c2559d2-89/s640x960/73e1d0a1e4c7f83d1c4a206b844b972766bc33b7.jpg) thong-chemise combo so transparent it's a little alarming—all the more when it’s tied at the front in a little bow, like it should be unravelled like a present, and the words _Happy Birthday to me_ float surreally through Seungcheol's head.

There's a matching pair of thigh highs too, held in place by garter belt; the flimsiest network of baby pink lace against his soft thighs and full hips, and if that isn’t enough of a breath-taking vista, Jihoon’s accessorized the outfit with a pair of white fluffy [cat](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a1b65f8d9818e1943b040398ac802727/5a0f61a5d6a9b408-34/s250x400/0a669ccda47e14e2d13241fe530bb06a4f52cebb.jpg) ears and a white leather [collar](https://64.media.tumblr.com/03c633a0706a0724b29dd1026d558636/5a0f61a5d6a9b408-7a/s250x250_c1/09524ec38c140f8b96ffbf8cfff674025dc13faf.jpg), complete with a _leash_.

A fucking leash.

It’s a good thing Seungcheol’s already loosened his bow tie, because right at this moment, he’s really struggling to _breathe_.

“Happy Birthday Seungcheol!” Jihoon says brightly, grinning from ear to ear, cheerful as can be about rendering Seungcheol speechless.

Seungcheol's brain resumes functioning approximately twenty seconds later, and finds that somehow, he’s already crossed the room, is already curling his hands around Jihoon’s waist, rubbing his thumb over the wispy fabric along his hip.

For a moment, all he seems to register is the feel of that fine, soft skin under his fingers, which look huge and clumsy by contrast, before he realises that he’s _touching_ Jihoon.

He’s touching him.

Seungcheol stops himself the only way he can: abruptly. He almost stumbles when he yanks his hands away and takes a sudden step back, and he sees Jihoon teeter for a moment, unbalanced and confused, eyes locking on Seungcheol with a new flash of nervous uncertainty.

“What’s wrong?" Jihoon whispers, smile dropping slightly. "Don't you like it?"

Seungcheol opens his mouth to answer, but all the moisture in his mouth seems to have fucked off elsewhere, so all he can manage is a breathy creak of noise, that sounds like _bheh_.

Jihoon apparently mistakes this _bheh_ for disapproval, because he drops his gaze down and to the side. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He stares at the carpet as he says the words. “I thought you’d _like_ it if I dressed up like this.”

“I do—I do like it!” Seungcheol says before the heart wrenching uncertainty can finish materializing in Jihoon's eyes.

But Jihoon doesn’t appear mollified. In fact, his expression is so apologetic now that Seungcheol feels like a complete ass. All the more when Jihoon produces a small painful smile, takes a step back, seems to curl in on himself, and Seungcheol has to scramble to catch up with him before he can rush off back into the bathroom.

“Hey—stop,” Seungcheol’s hand closes on his arm, gripping just above the elbow. Holding on long enough for Jihoon to face him, “Jesus Jihoon, _of course,_ I like it. I love it.”

“Really?” Jihoon asks, still somewhat on guard. “Cause you don’t _look_ like you do. You look..kind of freaked out right now.”

“I’m not freaked out. I’m just—" Seungcheol swallows, feeling the parch in the back of his throat, “A little surprised is all. I didn’t expect you to come out here dressed like that. You’re…you’re a sexy kitten for Christ’s sake. You’re wearing lingerie.”

Jihoon gives him an anxious little look, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“I know, but I didn’t think it would be a big deal. You’ve _seen_ me in lingerie before.”

Seungcheol stares at him wordlessly for a moment, thinking— _yeah, in my filthy, filthy fantasies, but how can you know about that?_

“I—I _have_? When?”

Jihoon looks down and away as a rosy blush rises in his cheeks, “Well, you _did_ take that picture from my phone, the one with me wearing my Christmas present. I thought maybe that meant you—”

Seungcheol jerks his head up, his brain is suddenly scrambling. 

“You _know_ about that?” He gawps at Jihoon with wide eyes.

Jihoon is biting his lip now, shifting his gaze back and forth, left to right, like he’s reading an invisible teleprompter. “Don’t be mad okay, but that day you couldn’t find your phone, I had it the entire time. I sneaked it away to get to your contact list, so I could plan your Birthday party. And so I had it with me when you sent the picture to yourself from my phone.”

Sputtering out a disbelieving laugh, Seungcheol drops his head down despairingly. 

Ah, shit. Well, _this_ is embarrassing.

Jihoon knows. He knows about the picture Seungcheol stole off his phone. 

The _thong_ picture. And yeah, well…..Seungcheol doesn't really know where to go from there.

His laugh turns sheepish as guilt wars with defensiveness, “Okay, yes—admittedly, I did send myself that photograph. And yes, I know I shouldn’t have done that. It was completely out of line, and I’m—ah _fuck_. This is so embarrassing. I'm so sorry.”

Uncrossing his arms, Jihoon lets his hands drop to fidget with the leather strap of the leash and looks over at Seungcheol through his lashes.

“W-why did you take the picture then? Were you going to use it to make _fun_ of me?”

The words echo with stubborn bravado, but Seungcheol can hear the genuine fear behind them. He can see in Jihoon's eyes how terrified he is of giving himself away like this if Seungcheol's only along for the ride out of sheer amusement.

"No, no, Jihoon, are you kidding me? I would never do that.” Seungcheol says, stepping closer, pushing right into Jihoon’s personal space like he belongs there. “I wanted the picture because it was _you_ , and you looked gorgeous. I mean, you’re always gorgeous anyway, but fuck—that picture was something else. When I saw it, I had to have it, and, well—”

Seungcheol trails off helplessly when Jihoon’s frown smoothes away, replaced by an expression of ardent curiosity as his gaze drifts down, fastening on Seungcheol’s _crotch_ , at the pretty obvious hard-on he’s sporting.

Suddenly, Seungcheol notices how close the room is, tiny and airless, the two of them standing near enough for their clothing to brush, and Jihoon is staring at his _crotch_. Seungcheol loses the knack for simple respiration for a moment. His blood can't seem to decide if it wants to rush to his cheeks or pool in his groin—which, just to make the point perfectly clear, Jihoon is looking right at.

"That’s not what it looks like," Seungcheol says, antsy in the silence. "It’s just the cut of these pants, they make it look like—"

He cuts himself short then, both because he recognizes the futility of his defence, and because there’s no ignoring how incredibly turned on he is right now. His dick is so obviously standing to attention, literally saluting Jihoon. Through his _pants_.

After a moment of wordless eye contact, Jihoon's expression eases back from surprise, softens into something hesitant and hopeful. 

“So it’s true? I haven’t been misinterpreting things?” He asks, half question and half revelation. “You..you actually like me? Like, _like-like_ me?”

Seungcheol squints at him.

When Jihoon doesn’t immediately explain what the hell any of the _means_ , he scratches his head, making no effort at all to mask his confusion.

“Uhh, honestly Jihoon, I don’t know what that _means_. But what I do know is this—” He takes a deep and closes his eyes, centering himself and hoping like hell his heartbeat doesn’t drown out his words as he says, “I’m in love with you Jihoon, and I have been for a really long time.”

Over the sound of his rapidly beating heart he hears a sharp intake of breath—a gasp—followed shortly by a quiet _thud_ , and when he opens his eyes again, he finds Jihoon sprawled out on the floor.

“Aww crap.”

* * *

Jihoon is drifting in that endless, warm, empty space that exists between the last moments of sleep and the first of wakefulness, when he feels the first touch.

It could have been anything – a breeze from the open window pushing at the sheets seems most likely – and Jihoon ignores it, allowing himself to continue to drift in the pleasant haze of pseudo-awareness.

The second touch is steadier, more real – a gliding pressure along his collarbone—pulling Jihoon unwillingly close to the surface of his skin, until he is squirming against the relentless tug of consciousness. When the touch slips down the rail of his spine to the ticklish place at the small of his back, he has no hope of fighting it off anymore.

“That tickles.” He giggles quietly, wriggling a little.

The answer is a soft puff of air over the top of his head. “Sorry, can’t help myself.”

Jihoon smiles lazily and nuzzles into the heat against his cheek, breathing out a pleased sigh as the touch turns into something less teasing and more sure; a firm pressure that begins to rub circles into the base of his spine. His brain catches up to reality soon enough, and he snaps his eyes open to find himself lying on the bed, chest to chest with a warm body. _Seungcheol's_ body. Tucked all along the man's side with a muscular arm around his waist and his head tucked beneath Seungcheol's jaw.

He scoots back, just far enough to meet Seungcheol's eyes and surprise makes him blink and stare, taking in the sight of his boss’ handsome face, watching him at close range.

“Are...you real?” Jihoon whispers, peering owlishly into his eyes.

With a soft laugh, Seungcheol tucks a strand of hair behind Jihoon's ear, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Even with the evidence from every one of his own senses, Jihoon can’t quite believe this is happening. Every step in the sequence of his evening seems too unreal. From bumping into his shitty ex at the party—to finally working up the courage to invite Seungcheol up for coffee. But none of those things can compete with the fact that Seungcheol is _here_ , stretched out next to him on his Hello Kitty bed in a perfectly regal slouch, one hand curled around his bare hip. That Seungcheol came home with him tonight—that he told Jihoon he _loves_ him, and in response Jihoon had….

Oh yeah, that’s right.

He passed out!

Honestly, he really wishes he had an off button for that.

It’s hard to say how long he’s _been_ out for, but it’s long enough for Seungcheol to have taken a few steps to make him more comfortable. The leash is gone, as are the fluffy cat ears Jihoon had pinned into his hair, and Jihoon’s favourite blanket has been shaken out and sweetly pulled up over his waist.

Seungcheol is still fully dressed however, minus the jacket and the bow tie hanging loose around his collar, and Jihoon can’t help but wonder if the blanket is to preserve his virtue, or just Seungcheol’s attempt at putting some distance between them.

He stops wondering a second later, when Seungcheol leans in and presses a lingering kiss to his temple. The show of unguarded affection makes Jihoon's chest feel tight and hot, and it takes him a moment to breathe again.

“Are you feeling okay Peanut? I’m—I’m sorry I didn’t catch you in time.” Seungcheol says, sincere and a little sheepish. “I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them again, you were already on the floor. I think you might have bumped your head a little, but I couldn’t feel anything when I checked.”

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” Jihoon whispers, smiling and dazed, absently reaching out to brush the hair from Seungcheol's face. A little dimple pops up in Seungcheol’s cheek, sweet and boyish, and suddenly all the things Jihoon hasn't said to him make his throat hurt.

“I—I love you too, by the way. Just so you know.”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes lock hard on his face. Rapt. Attentive. He opens his mouth and closes it again, maybe to ask Jihoon if he's sure, but he’s staring so hard it seems to take all his attention.

Jihoon can’t help but feel restless in the quiet that follows, tracing his fingers aimlessly along Seungcheol's chest, his collar, his intimidatingly muscled shoulder. Though to be fair, he’s always been restless around Seungcheol.

At least Seungcheol doesn't seem to mind the way Jihoon keeps touching him. He just watches Jihoon quietly—makes no protest when Jihoon's wandering fingers trace higher, ghosting along his jaw, his cheekbones, his full, soft mouth. Jihoon even boops him on the nose just to make sure he's real, and Seungcheol allows that, too.

When Jihoon finally lets his touch fall away, Seungcheol seems to snap out of his reverie and captures his hand, draws it close. Presses a kiss to the soft pulse point at Jihoon's wrist, lets his lips linger there, like he can feel the frantic rush of Jihoon's heartbeat under the skin. When he draws back, there’s a pinch between his eyebrows, a worrying echo of the awkward expression he wore when Jihoon first stepped out of the bathroom, and just like that, Jihoon knows _exactly_ what stupid ideas he’s having even before the guy speaks.

“Jihoon, before this goes any further, I feel the need to point out I’m old enough to be your fa—”

“Oh my god,—” Jihoon huffs, kicking the blanket off as he sits up. “Please, please, _please_ do not finish that sentence. I don’t care how old you are Seungcheol, and I think I’ve made that pretty clear. If you use our age difference as an excuse now, I think I might just have to suffocate you with one of my plushies.”

Seungcheol’s jaw flickers with amusement as he mirrors Jihoon’s movements, sitting up too.

“ _Okay_ , fair enough. But have you considered the fact that I’m also a miserable bastard, with a terrible temper who sucks at sharing his feelings?” He moves his hands down his thighs, over the sheets, restless, awkward with the effort to get out words that had to do with feelings. “You deserve so much better than me Jihoon. I know it, you know _it—everyone_ knows it.”

Jihoon hesitates before he speaks again, but he’s not above striking when the iron is hot.

“I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that Seungcheol. You’re literally the sweetest, kindest man I know. You’ve been nicer to me than most of the people I know combined and I haven’t even known you a full _year_ yet. And…and you make me really happy.”

Seungcheol chuckles and shifts a little, enough so Jihoon can see he is still half-hard, “Really? Even when I’m grumpy?”

Jihoon nods, reaching up to tug the bow tie from Seungcheol’s collar, “You’re actually really cute when you’re grumpy Cheol. And I wasn’t lying in my Valentines card—I love everything about you, even the prickly bits.”

A pause settles, slow and aching between them, leaving Jihoon with a familiar helpless feeling. Before it can manifest into full blown panic, Seungcheol scoots over, closing the last of the distance between them and reaches up to touch Jihoon's face with one hesitant hand.

Even sitting perched on his knees Jihoon has to tilt his head back to meet those piercing eyes. But that's fine. It's _more than fine_. Seungcheol is finally touching him—fingers warm against his cheek, palm cautious where it frames his jaw—and Jihoon must close his eyes, because he doesn’t see Seungcheol lean in; only feels the tips of their noses bump.

Their first kiss begins as just a touch of lips. None of that cliched ‘tongues battling for dominance’ Jihoon often reads about in spicy fanfiction that has him cringing and quickly scrolling away.

Seungcheol’s not hesitant, but he’s sweet and gentle in a way Jihoon doesn’t expect him to be, holding Jihoon steady with a hand carded through the hair at the nape of his neck, like everything, from the placement of his hands to the first swipe of his tongue has to be _perfect_. Even when he deepens the kiss, he keeps his exploration tentative, slow, only tilting his head and slipping his tongue inside when Jihoon breathes a needy sound and presses harder against him.

Jihoon is breathing hard when they pull back, clinging to Seungcheol's shoulders with desperation despite the gentleness of the kiss. He’s halfway in Seungcheol’s lap already, and Seungcheol encourages him the rest of the way, hands curling around his thighs to hoist him up.

After an eternity of wordless eye contact, he glances down between them, and the sharp edge of a smile cuts across his face. 

“Can I…. _touch you_?”

Jihoon nods by way of reply, because he doesn’t trust his voice not to do something utterly stupid like moan out a breathy _oh my god_ , _yes please._

Grinning, Seungcheol skims his palm over the lacey fabric down Jihoon’s side, over his hip, along his thigh, then pushes up the chemise to strokes Jihoon’s stomach, tracing his fingertips across the hollow of his hipbone round to the dip of his spine.

It’s all done in the gentlest of caresses, barely any pressure at all—but it’s still enough to spark a prickling flush all over Jihoon’s body, skin tingling everywhere Seungcheol touches him. A sensation that intensifies when that hand eases inside his waistband to stroke the curve of his ass. When Seungcheol starts flirting with the little dimple back there—the spot right above where his cleft begins—Jihoon moans out loud and grinds his ass shamelessly into Seungcheol's lap.

Seungcheol makes an intrigued noise, pausing his explorations to reach up and fiddle with the buckle of Jihoon’s collar, “You know Peanut, you’re a lot _kinkier_ than I expected you to be. I knew you had a thing for pretty lingerie, but collars and leashes? Can’t say I saw _that_ coming.” 

Jihoon draws a shaky breath and admits, “Well, if I’m being completely honest, this is kind of new for me. At least, the leash is. I did actually used to own a few collars before this one, but I’ve always been too shy to wear them in front of someone. Even someone I was dating. But…I guess…I guess I feel bolder around you.”

“I’ll say.” Seungcheol chuckles, warm exhale tickling Jihoon's throat as he dips down to nibble on an ear. “Bold enough to display your pretty sex toys in full view.”

Jihoon giggles, tilting his head to give Seungcheol better access, before Seungcheol’s words sink in and his brain pops online again.

“Wait, what? Sex toys?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Seungcheol purrs and nuzzles more deliberately beneath his jaw, mouth pressing hot over Jihoon's rocketing pulse point. “Is that a new trend? Leaving them sitting out like that, or were you just trying to get a reaction out of me?”

Jihoon blinks for a moment, considering. “W-what are you talking about?”

Seungcheol pulls back a little, curiosity all over his awesomely familiar and weirdly gorgeous face. “Uh, the giant dildos you have just sitting there on the shelf?”

Jihoon's brow furrows. “I don’t _have_ giant dildos, Seungcheol. I don’t have _any_ sexy toys.”

Seungcheol produces a little confused smile, gaze ticking upwards towards the shelf above Jihoon’s bed.

“Oh yeah, then what are those?”

Jihoon cranes his neck to take a look, but can’t seem to pinpoint what Seungcheol’s referring to.

The shelf above his bed merely houses his favourite accessories from when he used to avidly Cosplay in college. There’s his Rose Branch Bow from his Madoka Magica cosplay, and his wig for his Nozomi, Love Live! School Idol Project get up, some pieces of jewelry he customized himself for his Code Geass cosplay, and his personal favourite, his Sailor Moon—Oh.

_Ohhhhh_.

“What _those_? Those are my Sailor Moon and Sailor Mercury wands silly, from when I used to cosplay.”

“Cosplay?” Repeats Seungcheol, and Jihoon flushes hotly at the amusement in his voice.

Somewhere, Jihoon has crossed out of sultry kitten territory and into awkward dorky land yet again, probably at the mention of Cosplaying.

“It’s uhm, when you dress up as a character from your favourite film or book or manga, and attend events with your friends and, you know, take pictures and look cute. It can be a lot of fun, especially when you make your own costumes. I used to be a lot more active in college, but I don’t really have time for it now, so I sold off most of my outfits. I kept all my Sailor Moon stuff though, because it was the prettiest.”

Seungcheol just stares at him, apparently unconvinced. So Jihoon scrambles out of his lap and levers himself up onto his feet, tip-toeing to reach for the two wands sitting upright in the display cases he got especially for them.

“You must know what Sailor Moon is.” He grins, grabbing hold of his Sailor Moon wand, “It’s this really amazing—”

Seungcheol huffs a short laugh, the smile expanding outwards. “I _know_ what Sailor Moon is Peanut, but I also know what a giant dildo is, and those are two giant dildos. Maybe they’ve been deliberately _fashioned_ to look like Sailor Moon merchandise, but that still makes them giant dildos.”

There is a moment of awkward silence before Jihoon ventures, with a pipe of nervous laughter, “That’s—that’s crazy, why would anyone make Sailor Moon sex toys?” 

Seungcheol shrugs, his dark eyebrows lifting then sinking along with his shoulders. “Admittedly it’s a niche market, but that’s besides the point,” He waves a hand in the air and scoots to the edge of the bed, facing Jihoon. “What I’d like to know is where you _bought_ them?”

“Just some online shop I found. But it was legitimate, okay, I would know if I accidentally stumbled onto a _sex toy_ website.” Jihoon huffs, his ears going red.

At least, he’s _sure_ he would have noticed.

Thinking back on it, he can’t remember many details about the website, only that he had to enter his date of birth before he could shop. Which—yeah—did strike him a little odd at the time, but he was so excited to finally get his hands on some wands for his cosplay, he neglected to pay attention to anything else. 

The smile Seungcheol turns on him might be a little too humouring, but it merges into a more thoughtful expression a moment later. “I couldn’t help but notice a compartment on the side of that purple one, for AAA batteries. Does your wand _light_ up?”

Jihoon’s eyes dart to him in surprise, “Yeah of course. And it vibrates too!”

Seungcheol’s got nothing to say to that, but his arched eyebrow speaks _volumes_.

“Oh no!” Jihoon gasps, staring at the wand in his hand in a horrifying new light and thinks about hyperventilating, maybe just a little. “Are you—are you telling me I’ve had a bunch of sex toys on display in my room for three _years_?”

It’s not really a question, so he’s not really expecting an answer, but even if it was, Seungcheol’s not in a position to _say_ anything anyway, seeing as he’s too busy rolling on the bed, _laughing his ass off._

“It’s not funny,” Jihoon huffs, trying to summon a resentful tone.

In truth, he’s more embarrassed than angry. Embarrassed that he’s had two giant vibrating _dildos_ on display in his room this whole time and nobody thought to _say_ anything. That he’s taken them to hundreds of cosplay events and waved them in people’s faces, assumed that their looks of shock had been simple envy. Oh god—he even took his Sailor Mercury wand to class to show his friends once, and waved it at his professor, and—

Oh no ☹

He even showed it off to his mom!

Setting the first wand down on his desk, Jihoon jumps up to reach the second one, so he can squirrel them both away out of sight until he can figure out what to do with them, and maybe, hopefully, figure out how to erase everyone’s memories. When he flops back down with an irritated huff, it takes him several seconds to realize Seungcheol isn’t laughing anymore.

Seungcheol is just sitting on the edge of the bed and _watching him_.

And Seungcheol is smiling.

Jihoon frowns despite the undeniable pulse of warmth in his chest. "What?"

Seungcheol's smile widens, equal parts fondness and heat. "You’re so fucking cute. C’mere."

The frown fades from Jihoon's face, chased away by the unguarded affection in Seungcheol’s eyes. It's impossible to feel like the butt of a joke when he's being looked at like _that_. And when Seungcheol pats his lap in invitation and opens his arms, beckoning him forward, Jihoon can’t bring himself to resist.

Setting his wand down, he pads back over to the bed with a show of confidence he doesn’t remotely feel.

He had high hopes for tonight, and was kind of hoping he could pull off an extra super seductive manoeuvre or two. Maybe give Seungcheol a little lap dance, slink over and put one knee on either side of Seungcheol’s hips as he straddled his lap. Except the bed’s a little too low, and Jihoon’s still a little flustered, so he ends up just dropping astride Seungcheol’s lap without the faintest semblance of poise.

Seungcheol catches him before he can topple off though, tightening an around his waist and tugging him closer, grinning wide and greedy and fond. “You little dork, I love you so much.”

Jihoon blushes, but allows himself to be pulled into Seungcheol's space, wriggling forward when there's still too much distance between them. He doesn't wait for Seungcheol to kiss him—he's too impatient—instead presses right into welcoming heat and captures Seungcheol's mouth with his own, turning the momentarily awkward collision of lips into a slow pleased kiss of gratitude.

Seungcheol’s surprise lasts barely a second before he’s crushing Jihoon harder against his chest, steering the kiss somewhere demanding and possessive, with the sharp-edged focus he gives things that really matter to him.

"Woah," Jihoon gasps when they break for air.

"This still okay?" The question tickles his skin where Seungcheol's lips brush his throat.

"Yes, yes," Jihoon agrees, and then dives back in for another kiss. Arousal sings beneath his skin, and he is hard. Hungrily, shamelessly hard, and he knows he's not alone. The stiff nudge of Seungcheol’s erection is pretty obvious between his spread thighs. Combined with the greedy, unapologetic show of physical affection, it’s enough to make Jihoon's knees weak.

His senses tilt, and he wants more. He wants friction. He wants Seungcheol on top of him, weight inescapable and pinning him to the bed, the way he’s imagined a hundred times.

Either Seungcheol is psychic or simply wants the same things, because a heartbeat later Jihoon finds himself flat on his back along the mattress. His head spins a little, though the disorientation fades quickly as his heart races with excitement at how easily Seungcheol manhandled him into this new position.

The sensation of Seungcheol on top of him is better than every one of his fantasies. Seungcheol's movements are commanding as he spreads Jihoon’s legs. Confidence steadies every touch as he settles between them, rutting his hips forward in a way that provides _exactly_ the hot grind of friction Jihoon needs.

Stroking his hands up and down Seungcheol’s back, Jihoon luxuriates in the feel of finely woven cotton and masculine strength, breathes a sound more like a sob than a moan as Seungcheol grinds against him, pinning him more firmly to the bed. Seungcheol's mouth is hot at his throat a second later, and Jihoon whimpers at the sting of teeth, tilts his head to the side, baring more of his throat. Moaning when Seungcheol's teeth nip again, just under his jaw.

By the time Seungcheol is untying the bow of his chemise and stringing kisses down his throat, Jihoon is lightheaded and hungry for more. He reaches for Seungcheol’s fly – not working it open, just feeling Seungcheol up, checking him out, cupping him and then giving him a nice firm stroke through the layers of fabric.

He wants to take that stiff length in his hand and memorize every silky inch of it, but before he can _think_ of taking it further, Seungcheol breathes a choked sound against his ear and pulls his hand away, nuzzles beneath his jaw before easing back to look Jihoon in the eye.

"You sure you’re up for that Peanut?"

Jihoon doesn’t know what to make of that. There's nothing patronizing about Seungcheol’s tone—but there’s a hint of genuine caution, like perhaps he think’s—what? That Jihoon’s never had cock before? _Seriously_?

“I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of blushing virgin Seungcheol?” Jihoon frowns, though he can feel a flush starting to creep up his neck. “Cause I’m not. I’ve had lots of cock.”

Seungcheol gets up on one palm and smirks down at him. “Really? _Lots_?”

Jihoon's confidence falters a little. 

“Okay, well maybe not _lots_. But—but I’m not a virgin okay. I have experience.”

Seungcheol smiles knowingly, then bends his head and whispers against Jihoon’s ear, “I never said you didn’t. I just prefer to take things a little slower. Maybe factor in a little _foreplay_.” Tilting his head, he fingers the edge of Jihoon’s panties down a little bit. “I want to play with my birthday present a little longer, is there any harm in that?”

“I—” Jihoon swallows with a dry click. “No.”

"Good," Seungcheol murmurs encouragingly, and he kisses Jihoon again, biting at his bottom lip, before pulling away and kneeling up between his legs.

With all his previous hook-ups, Jihoon usually undresses himself, the times he bothers undressing at all that is. He's never given the task much thought before—turning the lights off, getting naked and slipping under the covers—that’s just a necessary step before getting to the main event. But Seungcheol clearly has _other_ ideas, and doesn’t even make a move towards the light switch.

In fact, he treats undressing Jihoon like it's all _part_ of the main event, with a keen appreciation for every single inch he uncovers and a slow reverence that leaves Jihoon’s head and heart spinning.

He begins by mapping Jihoon’s chest with light brushes of his fingers, the soft play of his lips, darting tease of his tongue—thumbs rubbing at his nipples to make them stand up, making Jihoon push greedily into his touch. Then holding Jihoon’s gaze, he undoes the garter clasps—slowly rolling one stocking down his leg, and then the other, tracing patterns along the insides of Jihoon's thighs all the while.

By the time he’s fingering the lacy edge of the garter itself, daring to nose along the waistband of his thong, Jihoon’s breath is stuttering out of him with a mixture of want and frustration. So much so, when the garter gets stuck, snagging on the lacy waistband of his thong, Jihoon reacts instinctively, jerking his hand down to just tear the stupid thing off. 

"It’s okay," Seungcheol stops him, a gentle hand on his wrist, breath is hot against Jihoon's ear, "Let me."

Seungcheol's voice sinks in and twists itself up in Jihoon's insides, and he slowly, slowly lowers his arm.

When the garter finally slips off, Seungcheol's suddenly everywhere, pressing him into the bed with his bulk, ducking his head and nudging beneath Jihoon's jaw with his nose. Not quite nuzzling—more like he's trying to hide his face, riled and overwhelmed. His breath is warm over Jihoon's skin, his lips a teasing after-thought just shy of a kiss.

Jihoon shudders, because it's good. Too fucking good almost. Because it's _Seungcheol_ , and Seungcheol can be overwhelming even from a safe distance. When he's plastered all over Jihoon's bare skin, his muscled body heated and heavy in all the right places, well…it's pretty fucking amazing. 

Jihoon doesn't have long to revel in the moment though; he's just pressing closer, just starting to reach for Seungcheol’s zipper again, when Seungcheol pulls away, eyes sparking defiantly as he climbs backwards off the bed.

At first, Jihoon thinks he’s going to start undressing himself too—which is great, because it’s seriously unfair that Jihoon’s the only one on display here. But when Seungcheol continues to just _stand_ at the foot of the bed, staring down at him, tilting his head this way and that, Jihoon can’t help but grow a little self-conscious.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, his voice cracking a little, much to his embarrassment. 

“Admiring the view.” Seungcheol purrs, and just like that, Jihoon feels much, much more naked.

He’s still wearing his thong, but he can't imagine being any more naked than he already is.

It’s strange to be on the receiving end of such attentions, but it isn't anywhere near all bad; not with Seungcheol standing over him, looking so appreciative and _hungry_. It makes Jihoon's skin buzz, and even without looking down at himself, he knows that he’s blushing all over, from his forehead to the tips of his toes—knows that the head of his cock, wet and swollen, is peeking out from under the waistband of his thong.

A soft little smirk breaks out on Seungcheol's face, as if he can read all this in Jihoon's expression.

Then as Jihoon watches on wide-eyed, he presses a knee against the mattress and climbs onto the bed, pressing a kiss to the inside of his ankle, his calf, his knee, before stretching up his body and making a place for his broad shoulders between Jihoon’s spread thighs.

Fixing a look on him, long and thoughtful, Seungcheol drags two fingers over Jihoon’s dick through the lace, humming approvingly at the damp spot he finds. Then, without hesitation, he presses a kiss there—begins mouthing the wet tip of Jihoon’s cock through the fabric, moving his lips so, so gently it aches.

Jihoon whimpers very softly, barely audible, and digs his fingers into Seungcheol's shoulders. He can feel the heat of those lips cutting through the fabric, can feel the need to come building at the base of his cock, like a knot twisting tighter and tighter.

But when Seungcheol hooks his fingers under the waistband and begins to slide his thong down slowly—still looking up at Jihoon’s face, still watching him carefully—a sneak attack of shyness hits Jihoon, and he throws an arm over his face as his cock springs free.

Instead of making the amused snorting noise Jihoon had expected, Seungcheol chuckles a little, and runs a finger teasingly along Jihoon's erection. “Everything about you is cute.”

The beginnings of a smile curves at the edges of Jihoon’s mouth, but he still can’t bring himself to look, so he has no idea what's coming, and flails in surprise when warm, wet suction wraps around his dick.

Jihoon’s experience with blow-jobs has been relatively _one sided._ He’s always been a bit of a pushover in bed, prone to trying too hard, and once his sexual partners find that out, his enjoyment kind of takes a backseat until they’ve had theirs, by which point, it’s too late and they’ve lost interest in making him feel good. He’s not used to his needs being the sole focus of attention, to just lay back while the other person willingly brings him to orgasm, but _Seungcheol_ ….Seungcheol’s going down on him like he’s being paid to do it, like he’s _enjoying_ it.

It’s almost too much to handle, and Jihoon quickly finds himself digging his heels into the mattress, squirming with the intensity of it. He’s making these embarrassing desperate hitching noises too, like he can't catch his breath, and every time he tries, Seungcheol does something new and more and wonderfully talented with his tongue and it’s just—

“Oh my god.” Jihoon manages, and is proud to note that he's made three whole words in a row.

The wet heat around his cock disappears suddenly, and then Seungcheol’s taking hold of his wrist in a circle between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it away gently from his face.

“What’s wrong Peanut?” He says, a little too tenderly. “Do you object to me going down on you?”

Jihoon’s stomach does a little flip-flop, and he has to resist the urge to hide his face behind his hands again. It shouldn’t be hard to come up with something to say to that— _of course not, this feels amazing, please don’t stop_ —but instead he takes a deep breath, meets Seungcheol’s eyes and says, “It’s your birthday, you’re supposed to be the one getting all the nice attention. Not me.”

Seungcheol looks up again, chewing on his full lower lip for a moment before replying, “Since it’s my Birthday, shouldn’t I get to do what I _want_?”

Jihoon swallows thickly, “Well, uhm—yeah.”

“Then, this is what I _want_ to do.” Seungcheol says, brushing a kiss to Jihoon's belly.

There's no reason that should make Jihoon’s face heat or his heart pound faster, but there’s something giddy in him at the knowledge that Seungcheol wants to draw this out. It’s not something Jihoon’s come to expect from the guys he sleeps with, this tenderness, this attention, but it’s something he’d sure as hell like to get used to. If his “Okay” sounds a little breathless and can't think of anything else to say, well. Hopefully Seungcheol won't take it the wrong way.

Seungcheol _seems to_ take it well, because his smile widens a charming fraction and he _kicks it into gear_ , like the truly top-drawer blow job he'd been giving was just the warm-up, and Jihoon's last thought is that Seungcheol's going to have to peel him off the ceiling when they're done here before his brain turns to mush.

* * *

As ridiculous as it seems, apparently no one has ever sucked Jihoon’s dick before.

When Seungcheol first slipped his mouth over the flushed tip, the responding moan was almost panicked—frantic. Jihoon’s whole body rolled towards him like a wave, arching up into the touch then receding into the sheets just as quickly, like he couldn’t decide how to feel about the whole thing, and Seungcheol tightened his hold on Jihoon's hips thinking— _oh wow, really?_

If he had needed any extra inspiration to make Jihoon’s eyes roll back in his head, this is surely it.

He pays attention to all the usual hot spots—tonguing along the underside, teasing the slit, using his tongue and lips and the fine edge of his teeth, then detours to Jihoon’s balls, mouthing them a little roughly just to hear Jihoon mewl. Once he's gotten Jihoon to slam his fist into the mattress, he finally takes Jihoon’s cock into his mouth with a pleased hum. 

Little sounds stream out of Jihoon—gasps and squeaks and whimpers—and each one sizzles through Seungcheol’s body, blazing a path straight to his cock. He’s painfully hard, wildly turned on by Jihoon's helpless sounds, his desperation, but he doesn’t bother to work on his fly just yet. Instead, he reaches very slowly, very deliberately behind Jihoon’s balls, strokes his fingers softly over Jihoon’s hole, his thumb circling, not pressing in, just rubbing and teasing.

When Jihoon’s expression opens up with surprised pleasure, Seungcheol’s encouraged to gently ease the finger inside, reveling in the way Jihoon gasps and bucks up, cock slipping from Seungcheol’s mouth as he pushes back against the intrusion.

“That’s it—open up for me baby.” Seungcheol breathes, running his free hand down Jihoon's smooth side, caressing his hip, before he takes hold of his cock again and starts to jerk him off in time with his ministrations.

Gradually Jihoon melts back into the sheets, making desperate little noises, thighs trembling as Seungcheol strokes him inside, working him open with one, then two fingers. When Seungcheol adds a third, Jihoon’s entire body goes rigid, and he makes a small almost-pained noise that sets Seungcheol's heart racing.

"Shh—it’s okay," Seungcheol whispers, hushing and gentling him instinctively.

Easing his fingers out, he continues to fuck Jihoon with just two, distracting him with kisses and gentle pulls on his cock. He wants to draw this out as long as possible, to see what the possibilities are, the potential—but he can feel Jihoon getting close, the chorus of appreciative noises getting louder and more frantic.

When Jihoon flails, trying to pull away with a desperate, “Wait, wait—I’m going to—”, Seungcheol holds his hips down, and sucks his cock back into his mouth, strokes his fingers in more urgently.

Jihoon’s feet kick out, and he screams and then spurts in Seungcheol’s mouth, at almost the same time his body goes rigid and then a tremor passes through him like he’s been hit by lightning.

Swallowing, Seungcheol licks his lips and sits back on his heels to enjoy the view.

Jihoon stares up at him, soft-eyed and yielding, looking every inch the gorgeous wreck. Sweat beads on his forehead and his cheeks are flushed, and his insane bedhead sticks out from the rucked up sheets like an exclamation point.

Seungcheol smiles, pleased with his efforts then scoots up to lie next to him, leaning over to kiss his soft, slack mouth. He keeps his eyes open, and the expression on Jihoon’s face is sheer amazement at tasting himself on someone else’s tongue.

Seungcheol enjoys that probably more than he should, but to be able to give Jihoon his first time at anything is more than he could have expected. When he pulls back, Jihoon looks up at him with hazy eyes.

He still looks wild and debauched but, abruptly, deadly serious.

“Take of your clothes.”

Chuckling, Seungcheol runs his hands over Jihoon’s thighs once, twice, before he stands, hands coming up to remove his belt. “Alright—you asked for it.”

Without taking his eyes off Jihoon, Seungcheol begins stripping out of his pants and unbuttoning his shirt, letting them drop carelessly to the floor. He’s been anticipating this moment for hours, and while it's a relief to finally free his dick from the confining torment of his underwear, his heart pounds louder at the way Jihoon's gaze drops to his hands, to take in the sight of him. Then his heart damn near stops as Jihoon jerks upright, eyes widening as he regards the juxtaposition of their bodies.

“Oh my god!”

It’s such a candid reaction that Seungcheol doesn’t quite succeed at stifling a laugh.

“Something _wrong_ Peanut?”

Jihoon shakes his head empathically, murmuring a quiet ‘No’ even though he’s scooting backwards across the bed.

Seungcheol’s had enough sexual partners to know he has a big dick, has weathered enough teasing and playful jokes since the boarding school locker rooms to know he’s packing significantly bigger merchandise than most guys. He thought by now he was familiar with all the reactions the sight of his dick elicits. But nobody has ever, ever actually _recoiled in fear_.

And Jihoon _is_ afraid, Seungcheol can see it written in every line of his body, from his blown wide pupils to the fine tremor in his hands as he grasps at the bedcovers. Hell, if the blanket had been within grabbing distance, Seungcheol’s pretty sure Jihoon would have wrapped it around himself and pulled it over his head to shield himself from the sight of his monstrous dick.

“I was afraid this would happen.” Seungcheol feels his shoulders slump slightly, and quickly straightens them again, “This is _why_ I was trying to take it slow, I knew my dick would scare you—"

Jihoon eyes snap up, abandoning their examination of Seungcheol’s cock.

“Hey, I’m not _scared_.” He answers in a rather undignified squeak.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow sharply as he kicks off his boxers and drops to the bed, “Oh yeah? How come you’ve relocated to the other side of the bed then Peanut?”

Jihoon glances around the bed hastily, then bites his lip and shoots Seungcheol a smile midway between amused and nervous.

“Ok, I guess I am a _little_ scared.” He admits, although he’s already crawling back across the bed and landing in a straddle across Seungcheol's lap. “I just didn’t expect you to be so…. _huge_. I mean, Janna did mention you had like the Mount Everest of dicks, but now that seems like a massive understatement. It’s more like the Mount….wait, what mountain’s bigger than mount Everest?”

_Well, there’s the Olympus Mons on Mars_ —is what Seungcheol intends to say, except he doesn’t even get to begin the sentence because Jihoon’s already reaching down, testing the heft of his cock, squeeze it lightly, trailing his fingers up its length—up, up, up, _fuck_ —finally capturing the flare of the head between thumb and fingers, stroking just a little with a hushed ‘ _Wow’_

Seungcheol grunts and tries to speak but only manages to grunt again. He hopes he sounds positive because it feels pretty damn good.

Since his divorce, his dick has had a close relationship with his hand for the most part, and he was okay with that. He sort of _had_ to be. But it always feels better when someone else is touching him, and Jihoon’s movements are leisurely and playful, _teasing_ —none of the rough, solid pulls Seungcheol usually gets from people he sleeps with that leave him grimacing in discomfort. Just nice, slow strokes that have him swelling slightly in Jihoon’s palm, stretching his fingers out further.

Fully hard, Seungcheol knows those fingers won’t quite touch around its girth, and if he gets there, there’s no way his dick is going back in his pants without some kind of relief. He opens his mouth to say as much, to ask _‘Are we doing this? Is this okay?’_

When Jihoon stops pumping his cock suddenly, lifts his hand between them so he can get a good long look at the way his fingers are glistening. Then without hesitation, he slides two fingers into his mouth and moans around them, eyes glittering with amusement and something wilder, more heated.

Seungcheol barks out a laugh, fond of Jihoon in spite of himself: blushing, flirty, paradoxical Jihoon.

It’s hard to believe this is the same guy who puts smiley foam faces on his latte every morning, who has the largest collection of plushies sitting a few feet away, who looked so young and scared of Seungcheol’s dick only a short time ago. Now he seems made of confidence, so certain of what he wants as he sucks the last of Seungcheol’s precome of his finger with a smirk.

Seungcheol stares in mute surprise for an embarrassing drag of seconds before thinking to pull Jihoon down against him, wipe that cheeky little smirk off his face with a filthy kiss.

All this time, he’s been carefully keeping himself in check, determined to let Jihoon set the pace of whatever this was between them, and now he can't get close enough. He shifts them both on the bed, hands at Jihoon's waist to pull him flush against Seungcheol's own eager body, snugging their hips together as the bed _wheezes_ its protest.

Seungcheol just has a second to think— _Holy shit, am I really going to fuck my PA on this giant plushie?—_ when fingers snag in his hair and Jihoon bites his lip hard, demanding all his attention.

The possessive burn in Seungcheol’s blood flares up, makes him kiss and grasp at Jihoon all the harder, and when it only makes Jihoon groan into his mouth Seungcheol knows he has to dial it back a little. He loosens his grip, and has just a moment to regret it as Jihoon slips free from his hold entirely.

The flash of frustration vanishes in an instant, because Jihoon hasn't gone far. He’s manoeuvring himself on his knees on the floor, fitting like perfection between Seungcheol's legs, eyes locking on Seungcheol’s as he takes a firm hold of his cock, now fully hard and leaking in the warm air of the room.

Seungcheol's heart beats faster just looking at him, because the unfamiliar sight of Jihoon’s open, wet mouth hovering mere inches from his cock all seems too good to be true. But even when he blinks hard, Jihoon is still there. Still on his knees. Still staring up at Seungcheol with something alarmingly like worship written across his face.

Jihoon laps at his slit kittenishly a few times, teasing his foreskin, tonguing the slit, before leaning forward, shutting his eyes and parting his lips around the head.

Seungcheol bites off a moan at the first tentative pass of those lips, then throws his head back and groans aloud when Jihoon quickly takes him deeper, mouth sliding further along the straining length.

Never in a million years did he think this night would end with him watching his cock slide between Jihoon’s pretty lips, guiding him to take in a little more with each bob of his head until there are tears running down his face.

He can tell Jihoon is figuring this out as he goes, that he’s never had dick this big before and the knowledge sets Seungcheol’s blood hungry and on fire. But even with his eyes streaming, Jihoon doesn’t pull off once, just hums around him and ducks his head to take more anyway, making happy little whimpers like he can’t get enough.

It’s not long before he’s adjusting and setting a fast, slick pace, bobbing up and down Seungcheol's cock, sliding all the way down every dozen sucks or so, practically showing off. It’s hot and clumsy, perfect, and Seungcheol clutches at the bedspread to keep from burying his hands in Jihoon's hair and driving his dick mindlessly down his throat. Then when Jihoon attempts to swallow around him without easing off, almost chokes himself, Seungcheol has to reach out to stop him.

“Jesus, Jihoon—don’t hurt yourself baby.”

It’s clearly the _wrong_ thing to say, because Jihoon withdraws, letting Seungcheol slip from his mouth with a wet sound and then pouts at him. Actually pouts, as if to say, _how dare you not let me choke on your dick?_

Seungcheol chokes a startled, breathless laugh. Quiet and short and shaky. “Okay, I’m sorry—whatever makes you happy.”

Jihoon smiles up at him with an unmistakable air of mischief, before taking his dick back into the warm, wet, perfect heat of his mouth. Licking and teasing and hollowing his cheeks, barely retreating at all when he chokes on the thick length again.

The world is a blur of shattered sensation after that, the hot slick slide of Jihoon's mouth along the length of his cock, and all too soon, Seungcheol's brain whites out into the dizzying rush of orgasm.

The sight of Jihoon afterwards though—tousled and messy, sticky from not swallowing quite fast enough and yet ridiculously happy—is nearly enough to get Seungcheol up and ready for another go. Instead he pulls and urges Jihoon back onto the bed. Kisses him clean and snuggles him close and fights to get his breathing under control.

Jihoon settles against him without complaint, still with that little smile on his face, and waits as Seungcheol puts himself back together.

* * *

“We don’t have to do much more than this, you know. I’m happy with this. More than happy.” Seungcheol can’t help but feel that’s coming out way more flustered virgin than he intended. But he thinks perhaps there’s a good reason to try and manage expectations here.

Especially now, with Jihoon’s hand on his half-hard cock, slowly stroking and playing with the foreskin, keeping his libido on simmer.

“Hhm?” Jihoon says, clearly paying more attention to the feel of Seungcheol’s dick in his hand than the conversation.

In all fairness, Seungcheol’s dick isn’t really paying attention to Seungcheol either, seeing as it’s already twitching eagerly, smearing a mess in Jihoon’s palm. And when it pulses out a stream of precome on the next stroke, a smile breaks out across Jihoon’s face, so huge and luminous it makes Seungcheol squint a little, like he's got the _sun_ in his eyes.

“Can you please fuck me now Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol groans and squeezes his eyes shut because that particular collection of words is actually threatening to blow out the circuitry of his brain.

He wants nothing more than to slide his cock home into the hot clench of Jihoon’s ass, but he’s trying to be realistic here, and more importantly, trying not to _think_ with his dick. If a degree in civil engineering taught him anything, it’s that before you put your plan into action, you triple check your measurements. But he doesn’t need to break out a calculator or even a fucking ruler to know it would be a massive miscalculation on his part to try and go the whole way tonight.

It only took two fingers to make Jihoon come apart earlier, and the addition of a third was met with a sharp squeak and a shuddery, pained exhale, so he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he is _not going to fit._

Jihoon needs more than a quick fingering to prepare him for this—he needs weeks, if not _months_ of careful stretching to accommodate the full length of Seungcheol’s cock, or it will be painful as holy hell. A point which Jihoon doesn’t seem to have considered, seeing as he’s fumbling to get the lube out of the bedside table and pushing it into Seungcheol’s hands with a quiet, “Please, Cheol, please. Fuck me.”

Even if Seungcheol did possess the power to deny his Peanut anything—which he determined about nine months ago that he absolutely does _not_ —the desperate little noises Jihoon is making are sending sweet shivers to his balls. So snatching up the lube, he flips Jihoon onto his stomach and stretches out beside him, kisses his shoulder and whispers soft, sweet nonsense as he gets him ready.

He enters Jihoon with one slicked up finger, tucks it in slowly, oh so gently. Smooths the lube in as deep as he can. Then adding a second, he cranes himself up over Jihoon’s squirming body, watching for the slightest hint of pain while he works him open, bit by bit, until Jihoon's greedily clenching around three of his fingers. 

He keeps Jihoon locked on that edge for a while, even when Jihoon moans and begs, "More, please Cheollie," Seungcheol isn't taking any chances. He keeps his movements slow, careful, sliding his fingers deeper but taking care to avoid Jihoon’s prostate, until Jihoon’s pushing back and making insistent little mewling noises, so fucking hot, and Seungcheol has to lean forward to lick a trickle of sweat off his neck.

“N-ow, Cheol, _please_ ,” Jihoon says, voice strained with need. “I’m—I’m ready.”

_No, you’re not_ , Seungcheol almost snaps, but Jihoon’s so tight and hot inside, and Seungcheol wants to be in him now, now, hell, _nine months ago_. 

Groaning, Seungcheol pulls his fingers away and rolls on a condom, quickly slicks up his cock. Then with one hand firmly clamped around Jihoon’s hip, he presses the blunt tip against Jihoon’s rim, makes small coaxing noises until Jihoon’s body relents and opens for him.

Almost immediately, Jihoon cries out and clenches, and Seungcheol, god help him, groans alongside him because, _Jesus,_ _fuck_ —Jihoon is so tight.

Once when Seungcheol was shaving, the prong of his electric razor broke off and got stuck in the electrical outlet, and Seungcheol in his early morning, bleary eyed stupidity had attempted to yank it out with his bare hands. His memory of the experience is hazy—bright strobes behind his eyelids, searing heat, and the agonized sensation of every muscle in his body coiling tight.

Watching Jihoon on his hands on knees, ass in the air, clenching down on _just_ the tip of his dick, Seungcheol feels like he’s back in that bathroom, knocked on his ass by a hundred volt hit.

“Ch-cheol,” Jihoon pants, voice cracked and wrecked after hours of moaning. “Is—is it in yet?”

Seungcheol has to tamp down on the urge to laugh, because no—no it is _not_ in yet. He is nowhere _near_ in yet. They’ve barely gotten started and the petite body under his hands is tense, quivering with the effort of trying to take him in. He can feel Jihoon’s hole flex and release, feel how it’s trying to close around his cock despite being forced open to the limit.

Seungcheol is not sentimental about first times so much as practical. Your first time with someone stays with you, influences how you feel about sex for a long time to come. And since he has every intention of fucking Jihoon as often as humanly possible, he wants this to go well.

“Okay, so change of plans.” Seungcheol says, taking hold of the base of his cock as he withdraws, “No penetration.”

Jihoon reaction to that is immediate, and not happy in the least. He faceplants into the sheets and starts kicking his legs against the bed and thumping his pillow, throwing a….throwing a god damn _tantrum_ by the looks of it.

Seungcheol laughs, reflexively, because he doesn’t think anyone has ever thrown a _hissy fit_ over not having sex with him before.

It’s very touching—and a massive ego boost.

But now Jihoon’s sniffling in a very tragic way, burrowing his face into the bed and murmuring something indistinguishable into the sheets, and there’s nothing funny about that. His little Peanut is clearly sad about the new development and when Seungcheol curls himself along his back to look at him, there are tears in the corners of his eyes, seconds away from spilling.

“Aw, baby hey, don’t be sad,” Seungcheol soothes around his own dry throat, running his hands over the tops of Jihoon’s thighs. “I think we need to accept that fact that I’m not going to fit Peanut. I mean, not _tonight_ anyway.”

“I knew it.” Jihoon sniffles, “My ass it too small.”

Seungcheol grins, running his hands up Jihoon's sides and down again to curve around his hips “No, actually, your ass is surprisingly large compared to the rest of you. Your ass- _hole_ on the other hand is, yeah, a little on the tight side. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. We can have lots of fun while we work our way up to it.”

He squeezes Jihoon’s hips a little harder in his hands, carried away with the delicious sight of him just lying there. But when he looks up, Jihoon isn't smiling with pleasure, he is frowning a little.

"What?" says Seungcheol, eyebrows flying high, " Oh, shit, what did I say?"

Jihoon stares at him, lower lip jutting suspiciously like a pout.

“Did you just say I have a _huge_ ass?”

“Well, yeah. _Look_ at it. You’re so skinny everywhere else, but your ass is like—” Seungcheol trails off, waving a hand over Jihoon’s shapely rear end. 

Seungcheol’s never had a thing for a guy’s ass before; usually the sole purpose of an ass is not so much aesthetic as sensual, but Seungcheol has to admit that he’s spent a lot of time thinking about how delectable Jihoon’s ass looks – even before he ever saw him wearing a thong. It’s high and round and if Seungcheol were a man given to more artful phrasing, he might even refer to it as a perfectly ripened _peach_.

It certainly looks like one, complete with a sweet apex at the small of Jihoon’s back, curving perfectly out and down around two almost sinfully ample cheeks that are just begging to be—

“Ow.” Jihoon yelps, getting up on one elbow and looking back over his shoulder at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol lifts his head up and blinks, only now noticing that he has in fact acted on his impulse: he’s just finished sinking his teeth into one of Jihoon’s butt cheeks – not quite the crest of the muscle, but just a bit further down, where flesh curves under and arches down to meet thigh.

“Couldn’t be helped,” Seungcheol says, sheepish, “It’s so peachy I—I had to take a bite.”

“You _like_ my ass?” says Jihoon, cheeks colouring with pleasure. “Like, _like-like_ it?”

“Of course, I do. It’s gorgeous.” Seungcheol says, frowning, but he has to pull his mouth out of the expression again when he dips back down and bites gently on the other cheek.

“Hey!” Jihoon squeaks, trying to sound indignant and failing, but Seungcheol quickly follows up with a little kiss this time, which has the desired effect of making Jihoon subside into his pillow with a muffled giggle.

For a while, Seungcheol gets a little obsessed with mouthing the perfect curve of Jihoon's ass, sucking the flesh into his mouth, holding Jihoon steady with one hand on his hip. Jihoon for his part isn’t even offering token resistance. He’s dropped into pleased languor under Seungcheol’s lips, uttering soft breaths and occasionally pushing his hips into the mattress, just a little.

Then Seungcheol eases over until he’s kneeling between Jihoon’s legs, edging them a bit further apart as he does so. From this position he can shift down the bed a little, get a little more access to Jihoon’s asshole, and fuck – it _is_ gorgeous. 

Seungcheol shocks himself a little even thinking the word, but it’s true. Jihoon’s hole is perfectly taut and pink, fitting nicely with Seungcheol's still-evolving image of him as kind of sweetly untouched.

Sliding his palms up over Jihoon’s thighs, Seungcheol crooks his thumbs around the inner curves of each cheek and spreads them open. 

“Cheol?” Jihoon says, tensing a little, lifting his head to look, which tells Seungcheol that he has no idea what’s about to happen. His gorgeous little Peanut never been rimmed before and that is a crying shame.

An ass as fine as this deserves special attention. 

“Just relax for me baby,” Seungcheol murmurs, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the most private of places.

“O-oh,” Jihoon gasps, breathless, as he collapses back down again.

Seungcheol takes his time, softening that bashful little hole with kitten licks and sipping kisses. Jihoon remains perfectly pliant while he just shifts the flat of his tongue across, but he almost concusses Seungcheol with the reflexive arch when Seungcheol tries slipping the tip of his tongue inside.

“Like that huh?” Seungcheol smirks, pleased, buzzing and dizzy with weird perverse delight, “Told you we could still have fun,” He says, as he does it again—being sure to hold Jihoon down this time as he presses in with his tongue, reminding Jihoon what it feels like to be penetrated by something more exciting than his fingers.

Over and over, Seungcheol licks into him, tugging on that flexing rim with his lips and sometimes the barest edge of his teeth until Jihoon is babbling mindlessly beneath him, a stream of broken sentences and whimpered pleas and Seungcheol’s name over and over again.

Seungcheol loves every second of it—he could easily keep this up all night, but it appears Jihoon’s can’t handle much more, judging by the way he’s writhing and gasping, trying to get some friction against the sheets.

With one last fond lick, Seungcheol gets up on his knees again, moving forwards until he can blanket Jihoon with his own larger frame. He means to roll Jihoon onto his side, maybe jerk them off together and offer some kind of relief, but ends up groaning loudly as his cock _almost_ slides home along the cleft of Jihoon’s saliva-wet ass.

Seungcheol’s dick feels fucking amazing right _there_ , nestled between the valley of Jihoon’s ass cheeks, especially when Jihoon moans his encouragement and rolls his hips back, clenching around the length.

Seungcheol can’t resist the offer, so reaches down and helps himself, squeezing the two halves of Jihoon’s ass together on either side of his cock, thrusting into the tight space he finds in a sweet circular motion

He’s never done it like _this_ before, it always seemed like a junior high kind of manoeuvre for the fumbling and inexperienced, but he never anticipated the hotness of the sensation, the tight, velvet soft heat of Jihoon’s skin against the length of his over sensitised cock. It’s good—it’s more than good. It’s an almost perfect friction that has him nuzzling into the bend of Jihoon’s neck, grunting out his gratitude.

Jihoon gets the idea right away, lifting his ass up into the next clumsy thrust, urging him to continue. Seungcheol rewards him by getting a hand under Jihoon’s hips and around his cock, pressed between the weight of Jihoon’s body and the bed.

The angle is awkward as hell, but they’re both too far gone to move now. They make it work; Jihoon rubbing up into Seungcheol’s cock and down into Seungcheol’s hand while Seungcheol rides the cleft of his ass, trying and failing to set some sort of pace.

"Oh fuck, that's it," Seungcheol breathes into the crook of Jihoon's shoulder. "Just like that, so good."

Jihoon comes first, spilling across Seungcheol's stroking fingers and – oh fuck – _shimmying_ his hips under Seungcheol’s, and Seungcheol pulls back with a wet slick hand to get up on his haunches and finish himself off, coming pretty impressively in long thick stripes over Jihoon’s ass.

Jihoon seems so shy after, blushing from head to toe as Seungcheol rolls him over and pulls him in, dropping kisses all over his face, working through his post-coital affection. But once Seungcheol cleans them off and collapses on the bed next to him, he immediately plasters himself against Seungcheol’s side, seemingly basking in the warmth and proximity.

After a moment of sated silence, he turns in Seungcheol’s arms, hoisting himself up to commandeer Seungcheol's shoulder for a pillow. Up close like this, Seungcheol can see he has the startled, satisfied look of first times on his face, like someone has just let him in on the best, most important secret in the world.

“I’ve—I’ve never done that before.” He says, blushing adorably all over, even with his naked cock pressed against Seungcheol's naked thigh.

Seungcheol smirks and kisses the top of his head. “Me neither.”

* * *

It’s fair to say that Jihoon is _extra_ adorable first thing in the morning, when he’s still drowsy and loose limbed, hair sticking up in six different directions as he burrows against Seungcheol’s chest, making soft sleepy sounds as he drifts towards consciousness.

He turns deliciously shy when he finally wakes up, blushing and squirming in Seungcheol’s arms, averting his gaze, especially when he registers their mutual lack of clothing with a :O

Seungcheol gets the feeling his little Peanut hasn’t experienced a lot of morning’s after, and is obviously at a loss of what to do with himself.

Which would explain why he begins to scoot out of bed inch by inch, taking the blankets with him as he attempts to reach the dressing gown hanging behind the door. It’s too far away though, and when the edge of the bedsheet snags taut under the weight of Seungcheol’s hip, Jihoon turns to him with a little pout on his lips.

“Will you look away while I fetch my dressing gown?”

Seungcheol makes a face, “And why on earth would I do that?”

“Because I’m..I’m……. _not wearing any clothes_.” Jihoon finishes in a theatrical whisper.

Seungcheol can feel his eyebrows ticking upward, “So? You were barely wearing any clothes last night too. In fact, you were naked for most of, I’ve seen everything there is to see.”

Jihoon flicks the blankets a bit higher, sighing. “Yeah, I know, but I’m just not used to strutting about naked in front of anyone. The morning light isn’t exactly, uhm, you know… _flattering_.”

Seungcheol makes another face. “That’s bullshit. Your body is phenomenal.”

Jihoon pouts again, releasing the edge of the blanket a little. He sulks on the edge of the bed for a moment, glancing back and forth between Seungcheol and the dressing gown hanging just out of reach, probably calculating how long Seungcheol will see his peachy butt for if he makes a run for it. Then, just as Seungcheol’s feeling guilty enough to oblige him by shutting his eyes, he pushes the blanket aside and pushes himself off the bed.

There’s a delicious little jiggle to his ass cheeks as he rushes over to the door and fetches the gown. It makes Seungcheol want to whisk him off to a private island somewhere. Somewhere hot. Seungmin owns one off the coast of the Maldives or Fiji. He’s not entirely sure, because he can’t remember the last time he visited. But he’s going to _make_ time and take Jihoon there for a vacation.

And then he’s going to ban _all_ clothing—so Jihoon will have to walk around naked, and Seungcheol can watch his butt jiggle all day long.

Come to think of it, he might just go ahead and ban clothes in the office too. 

“I doubt Mr Hong will approve of that Seungcheol.” Jihoon snorts, moving over to the mirror to fix his hair, which is about the time Seungcheol realises he’s been talking out loud for oh—who knows how long. 

Oh well.

“I’m the boss, I can do what I want.” Seungcheol says, trying not to sound spoilt and entitled and failing. “And I want to watch your ass jiggle, so you better get used to it.”

Jihoon’s half-lidded gaze meets his in the mirror and slight flush rises in his cheeks, gratifyingly.

As Seungcheol watches, he steps over to the window and cranks it open, leaning out to sprinkle a few sunflowers seeds on the windowsill for his little bird friends that have been chirping there incessantly since dawn. They must feel safe around him, because a few eat the seeds right out of his hand, and one even hops up his arm to perch on his shoulder. A simple little gesture, sweet and trusting, which earns it a little pat on the head and a few extra seeds.

“How are you real?” Seungcheol sighs wistfully.

“Huh? Did you say something?” Jihoon turns his head to look at him, blinking guilelessly like he isn’t surrounded by a hundred tiny trusting birds that would happily commit acts of murder if he asked them to.

Grinning, Seungcheol shakes his head and sits up, “If I start chirping, can I get some breakfast too?”

Jihoon’s eyes brighten with interest, clearly excited about an opportunity to put his hosting skills to the test.

“Of course, I can make you anything you like!” He chirps, carefully returning the bird perched on his shoulder to the windowsill before padding over. “I can make you waffles, or bagels, or eggs and bacon—or, or, I can even whip up a batch of my Blueberry pancakes. They’re really good. And I have some excellent specialty coffee grounds I know you’ll love. Or I can go out and pick up some fresh oranges, and you can have freshly squeezed—”

Seungcheol nods along, keeping his expression utterly innocent until Jihoon’s within reach.

“Ah, but what if I’m not hungry for food?” He says, and quickly tugs Jihoon back into bed.

Jihoon puts forth remarkably little resistance to that, though he does get a little flushed and squirmy when Seungcheol pins him to the bed and parts his dressing gown. Clearly, he doesn’t like being looked at when he’s naked, and that is really quite inconvenient, since Seungcheol very much enjoys looking at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Seungcheol assures him, letting his gaze roam over Jihoon’s frame slowly.

There are bruises all over Jihoon's hips and, of course, Seungcheol feels a smidgen of guilt over that. But there’s something irresistible about leaving his mark too, and he can’t help but line up his fingers with the bruises on Jihoon's pale skin. A perfect fit, proof positive that he's responsible.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol grunts, fitting his hands around Jihoon’s waist, “I just—I can’t stop _looking_ at you.”

Hesitantly, Jihoon’s eyes flicker down over his own body, then quickly away again.

_So shy_ —Seungcheol thinks to himself, and bends forward to kiss the hollow of his throat, circling a thumb around one of his nipples. When the action earns him and anticipatory shiver, he adds his lips and teeth to the equation and is rewarded with the whole of Jihoon’s body rising beneath his.

_That’s more like it—_ Seungcheol hums softly, touching his lips to Jihoon's jaw.

Very gently, he begins a slow descent along the length of Jihoon’s body, leaving marks with his teeth wherever they can find purchase in Jihoon’s flesh. Each bite, no matter how gentle, earns him a soft noise of pleasure; though the ones that leave flushed marks prove more rewarding.

By the time he reaches Jihoon’s hip, there is absolutely no doubt whatsoever that Jihoon is thoroughly enjoying himself. Though when Seungcheol turns his gaze upwards, he finds Jihoon has his head turned against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey Peanut, remember last night, when I had my _tongue_ in your _ass_?”

A small whine of complaint escapes Jihoon’s throat, followed by a shuddering breath, but Seungcheol feels his cock throb with interest, where it’s pressed against the rise of hip. 

“You won’t believe how many times I’ve fantasized about doing that to you—bending you over my desk and eating you out so, so very slowly. Or even you sitting on my face, so I could stick my tongue, _deep_ into that ripe little asshole of yours and—"

He’s being crude, he knows, but he’s being crude _deliberately_ , and Jihoon doesn’t disappoint.

"Cheol!" Jihoon gasps, his cheeks painted red with a fresh rush of blood. He brings both hands up to cover his face, squeaking in embarrassment. "How can you just say stuff like that?"

Seungcheol chuckles, delighted, wrapping his hands around Jihoon's wrists and pulling his hands back. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so shy around me after everything we did last night. Is it me? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable, or—”

“No—no. Not at all.” Jihoon murmurs, reaching for him. “I enjoyed everything we did, and I want to do it again. I just—”

Jihoon trails off, lower lip shaking and unable to form words. He fiddles with the bedspread, half-heartedly making a shrug, then swallows with obvious difficulty. “It’s not a big deal, okay. Any issues I have, trust me when I say they have nothing to do with you.”

Seungcheol can believe that much; there's a liquid softness in Jihoon’s eyes, and he's looking at Seungcheol like he's the only thing in the _world_. But part of the problem with Seungcheol’s previous relationships is that he never really got to _know_ his partner, that he ignored all the obvious signs that something was wrong until it was too late to do anything about it.

He doesn’t want to repeat that mistake with Jihoon.

It takes only a few moments to reposition himself, stretching out on the bed and stuffing a pillow under his head, and when he’s got himself reasonably settled, he pulls Jihoon flush against him, cradling his back in the crook of his arm.

“Okay Peanut, maybe it has nothing to do with me.” He whispers, tilting Jihoon’s chin up gently, “But maybe you could still tell me about it?”

* * *

Jihoon’s never liked talking about experiences that make him sad, especially one as intensely personal as his shitty relationship with his shitty college boyfriend, shitty Sehun. But it’s surprisingly freeing to share the story with Seungcheol, who’s like…the best plushie _ever_.

Which, okay—may seem like kind of a weird comparison to make, but it’s totally true. Seungcheol’s like a big, _muscular_ plushie; he’s very, wonderfully warm and smells impossibly good, like cool water and clean bed sheets, like something Jihoon wants to sink into or be wrapped up in, and that makes him extra nice to cuddle with. And unlike Jihoon’s other plushies, Seungcheol actually _cuddles_ him back— doling out little kisses and stroking Jihoon’s hair during all the appropriate pauses.

By the time Jihoon finishes sharing his story, his heart feels inexplicably lighter, like he can finally put all that crap behind him.

It’s all in the past now. Sure, Sehun is still alive and still a colossal jerk, but that’s old news and Jihoon is moving on.

Life is good.

Except, then he turns to look at Seungcheol and—oh shit—there's absolutely nothing happy in Seungcheol's expression. His eyes are hard and bright, his are lips pressed together, his profile is as stiff and guarded as Jihoon’s ever seen, and all in all, it’s not a very _reassuring_ look.

“S-Seungcheol? Are you okay?” Jihoon swallows thickly; Seungcheol is the sweetest person he knows, but when he's pissed, he can be really fucking scary. “You look….really angry.”

The small muscles of Seungcheol’s jaw flicker tight and forcibly relax again, “No, not at all. Hand me my phone, would you Peanut.”

The cell’s sitting face down on the dresser, so Jihoon rolls over to grab it, handing it to Seungcheol a little reluctantly. Usually when Seungcheol’s pissed off about stuff, he calls people and yells at them. But this time he just opens a web browser and starts searching for something, brows pinched in concentration. When Jihoon re-settles into the crook of his arm and gets a look at _what_ , he has to swipe the phone out of Seungcheol’s hand. 

“Okay, why are you trying to buy a funeral plot?”

Seungcheol glances at him sideways, abruptly intense and dark-eyed, “Sehun must die.”

Jihoon locks him with an incredulous look, “No, Seungcheol, I didn’t tell you that story to work you up. You wanted to know what happened, so I told you. It’s not an invitation to kill my ex-boyfriend.”

Seungcheol looks almost sheepish for a moment, but it passes quickly. Replaced by a determined expression and unapologetic posture as he makes a grab for the phone. “And now that I know—Sehun must die.”

Rolling over, Jihoon quickly holds the phone out of reach over the side of the bed.

Seungcheol's eyebrows draw together just slightly, just enough to convey his disapproval, but he doesn’t attempt to snatch the phone back. Instead, his eyes travel slowly across the room, around the other side of the bed to—

Oh no, Jihoon’s phone!

Lunging for it, Jihoon snaps up his phone before Seungcheol can reach it, and holds it behind his back too.

“No, Seungcheol, no. You’re not allowed to kill anyone. Promise me right now that you won’t. Promise me or …or…or I’ll be very sad with you.” Jihoon pouts. 

A curious shift of expressions cascade across Seungcheol's face—there's fierce focus for a moment, replaced seconds later by hesitation, then a deliberate blankness that Jihoon doesn't buy for a second.

“Fine. I won’t kill him.”

“And you’re not allowed to _pay_ for someone to have him killed either.” Jihoon says, narrowing his eyes.

Seungcheol lets out his breath impatiently and flops onto his back. “How do you expect me to just let that asshole live when justice hasn’t been served.”

Dropping both cells over the side, Jihoon scoots over until he closes the space between them, then throws a leg over Seungcheol’s hip and shimmies up until he can trace his finger over Seungcheol’s impossibly lush mouth. 

“What if I offered you a distraction,” He says, before swooping in and pressing his mouth to Seungcheol's, kissing him hard and quick, like a guerilla attack.

Seungcheol’s frowning, like he’s still thinking about killing people, but then his hands are crawling up Jihoon's arms and clinging, and his mouth is kissing small trails over Jihoon’s neck and shoulder. Otherwise occupied, until—

“Jihoon, it’s 11am, I can’t believe you’re still in—” Seokmin comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the room when he notices the man currently taking up the other half of Jihoon's bed. Then one of his eyebrows does a slow, elegant arch up his forehead. “ _Well, well, well_.”

Jihoon, who had leapt up from bed the second Seokmin barged in, remembers a second too late to save his dignity that he is _naked_.

“Seokmin, what the hell!” He squeaks, grasping for the blankets to cover himself, inadvertently uncovering Seungcheol in the process.

He’s tempted to lecture Seokmin about just barging in on him, but they don’t exactly have a rule about knocking first. Normally that would be completely unnecessary—normally he would never have anyone staying the night. He’s inordinately pleased to realise they’re going to _have_ to have rules, now that Seungcheol might be sleeping naked in his bed. 😊

Though the sight of semi-naked Seungcheol doesn’t seem to be acting as much of a deterrent at the moment, seeing as Seokmin’s still _standing_ there, staring at Seungcheol’s semi-nakedness with wide eyed wonder.

“Christ, Seokmin—do you _mind_.” Jihoon hisses, making pointed shooing gestures with his hands, which Seokmin proceeds to _pointedly_ ignore.

In fact, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and rubs his hands together gleefully, like he’s _enjoying_ the view.

Seungcheol’s not exactly helping the situation either; he’s not the least bit shy about being watched, and doesn’t even bother trying to cover himself as he yawns and stretches expansively, in a way that seems unfairly dramatic.

And _okay_ , maybe he’s not deliberately flexing all his ridiculous muscles as he does it, but _wow_ , there’s just so—so so much muscle flexing going on, it’s kind of hard _not_ to look at. In the early morning light, with the sheet barely clinging to the edge of his hip, he looks almost otherworldly, like some mythological god in a _Renaissance_ painting or something.

“ _Wow_ —” Seokmin croaks, “You’re even hotter than I expected under all those fussy suits. Bet you’re hung like a horse too. Can I take a peek?”

At which point, Jihoon determines it’s totally fair to smack him in the face with a pillow.

“Seokmin, oh my god, get out! You’re embarrassing me.”

Seokmin huffs, getting briskly to his feet

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” He says, then pauses at the door meaningfully. “But I think we need to establish some ground rules eventually. Like no sex in the kitchen, or in the living room, and Seungcheol—you’re probably the kind of guys who walks around the house naked, but here, under my roof, I want you to know I’m totally okay with that.”

“Okay, that’s it!” Jihoon snaps, grasping for his discarded dressing gown.

Clutching it around his waist, he steers Seokmin out the door and slams it in his leering face. Then turns the lock for good measure. Then places two plushies near the door to stand guard, just in case.

Returning to the bed, he crawls across until he can plant himself in Seungcheol’s lap, curls both his hands around Seungcheol’s biceps, gives them a contented little squeeze. “Anyway, uhm, where were we?” He grins, only for Seungcheol to give him an oddly serious look.

“I think Seokmin’s got a point Peanut—about the setting _rules_ thing. I think we should probably talk about work.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows as he parses a path through his own confusion. “Oh, uhm okay. I’ll go get my diary.”

“No, no,” Seungcheol clamps his hands on Jihoon’s hips before he can shift away. “I don’t mean work in the _conventional_ sense. I mean, we should talk about how we’re going to manage the delicacy of this transaction, you know, going forward.” He says, waving a finger between them.

Jihoon’s a little offended that Seungcheol’s just referred to their relationship with hand gestures and cliched business _jargon_ , but he tries to be genial about it, “Oh—uhm, okay. Sure.”

Patting a finger against his chin thoughtfully, Seungcheol considers his words for a long time, and when he speaks, it's as if suddenly, they’re back in the boardroom.

“Following careful deliberation, and considering the ramifications of such a robust partnership, I feel the most sensible strategy going forward, is to transfer your organisational expertise to a more discreet area of the business. Don’t you agree?”

Jihoon blinks. Frowns. Blinks some more.

“Uh—what? Why are you talking all businessy like that? You never talk like that unless you’re trying to hide something from some….wait.” He searches Seungcheol's face, a pinch of concentration between his eyebrows, “Oh no, are you…. trying to _transfer_ me?”

Seungcheol sighs heavily, a flash of discomfort crossing his face, “Yeah.”

“What!” Jihoon springs upright in a wild, winded rush. “No, no, you can’t do that! Please don’t transfer me Seungcheol. I don’t want to be anyone else’s PA.” He says, helpless and choked with feeling.

Seungcheol's expression softens, and he touches Jihoon's face. Broad palm curling along his jaw, thumb brushing the arch of his cheekbone.

“I don’t want you to be anyone else’s PA either Peanut, but we have to consider the facts. Long term, it may prove difficult for us to remain professional around each other.” His touch shifts, the pad of his thumb tracing Jihoon's lower lip. There’s a possessive growl in his voice when he continues, “I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands to myself now that I know I can, you know, freely touch. And I was already struggling to stay professional before all this. So it’s probably best that we don’t put ourselves in a compromising position where someone could see us.”

"Oh," is all Jihoon can says for a moment, even though Seungcheol’s words are burrowing deep into his chest, making his skin feel tight all over. “I—I thought you said you didn’t _care_ what people thought, that who you dated wasn’t anybody’s business but your own.”

“Yes, I did. And while that still holds true, it doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re my employee—that you work directly under me.” Seungcheol counters smoothly, “The least I can do is reassign you somewhere I can’t take advantage of that serious power imbalance.”

Seungcheol’s tone is patiently reasonable, which only serves to upset Jihoon more.

Yeah, okay, he gets it. Seungcheol’s the CEO, he has a responsibility to the company to remain professional and accountable for his actions. He can even accept that they could never openly tell people we were together, that they’re _dating_. And he would have been okay with that, as long as he could still be Seungcheol’s PA and see him every day.

But now Seungcheol’s telling him he can’t even do that?

It’s not fair ☹

Just when he thought he was happy and had it all figured out, the universe turns around and smacks him in the face.

“So…so you’re going to make me your dirty little secret?” Jihoon asks, barely a whisper.

“What? No,” Seungcheol forehead creases. “You’re not—that, that’s _not_ what’s happening here. That’s the exact _opposite_ of what I’m trying to do. Can’t you see, I’m trying to carve out an opportunity where it _won’t_ be a problem for us to be together. If I behave responsibly now and reassign you, then there won’t be a conflict of interest, and nobody will be in a position to judge when we _do_ become more open about our relationship. But if we start sneaking around behind everyone’s backs, and someone picks up on it, it will look bad on every aspect of our relationship.”

Jihoon accepts there’s some wisdom in what Seungcheol’s saying. Really, he does. And if he was better at this whole adulting thing, he would probably even suggest the same mature solution to their predicament himself.

Except that he’s terrible at adulting, and right now all he can think about it is—

“I don’t wanna be someone else’s PA!” Jihoon sobs.

Seungcheol looks distinctly like he's suppressing a sigh, but he reaches over instead, cups his hand around the back of Jihoon's neck, tugs him in close enough that he can drop a fond kiss to his temple. 

“Jihoon, baby, listen to me. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re thinking short term, thinking how unfair it will feel for a few months at most. But I’m trying to plan _long_ term here. This isn’t a fling to me, this is a relationship that I want—I _want_ to be with you, for the rest of my life, and to do that, we both have to make some sacrifices.”

Calming a little, Jihoon draws a shaky breath and forces the words across his tongue. “I understand—”

Seungcheol's eyes close for just a moment, a fleeting instant of relief. “Good. Thank—”

“—but I still want to be your PA.” Jihoon cuts in, meeting his eyes stubbornly with a soft, pleading look.

But instead of softening his expression, Seungcheol arches one eyebrow high. “Really? You’re really going to use the soulful kitten eyes on me right now?”

Jihoon dials it up a notch, pouting a little.

“Oh my god, Jihoon. Seriously?” Seungcheol says, flopping onto his back in exasperation. “You’re _killing_ me.”

Not to be dissuaded, Jihoon clambers over him and bats his lashes too, and allows his lower lip to begin quivering. If it comes to it, he thinks he can summon a few tears if he thinks of something really sad. Like….like the beginning of _Bambi_ ☹ Oh no, he can already feel the tears forming just thinking about it. Even though it seems further emotional manipulation will not be necessary because Seungcheol’s already squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay—fine. _Fine_ , I won’t transfer you. Please, just _stop_. Stop with the everything you’re doing right now. My heart hurts.”

Smiling, Jihoon wipes away the Bambi-instigated tear from under his eye and drops down to rest his head against Seungcheol’s chest. “Thank you Cheol.”

Seungcheol pulls him closer, laughing, and the sound is smooth and warm and exasperated. 

“You’re a little bit evil Peanut, you know that. I never thought I’d say that about you.”

Jihoon just sighs happily and stretches up for a kiss.


End file.
